


Ask Me For Anything

by AnneCumberbatch



Series: Sometimes in the Evening [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John Watson, Angst, Caring Sherlock Holmes, Comforting John Watson, Cuddling, Domestic John Watson, EVERYTHING GOES WRONG, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Frustrated John Watson, Kisses, M/M, Ordinary People, Ordinary lives, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sometime in the Evenings, domestic life, snapshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 05:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/pseuds/AnneCumberbatch
Summary: John has a day where nothing works the way it's supposed to, including his communication with Sherlock.





	Ask Me For Anything

 

John’s hand fumbled in his pocket, attempting to pull his house key out from where it was trapped under his phone. He pulled the key out and the phone slipped out and fell to the pavement with a terrifying crack. “Shit.” He bent, shifting the bag on his shoulder out of his way, and picked up the device. A small crack ran across the top left corner of the screen. John stood and pocketed the device before closing his eyes and leaning against the front door, “Fuck. _Fuck.”_ After taking a moment, he unlocked the door and walked in, controlling his breathing, in and out slowly and regularly.

 

Sherlock listened to the key twisting in the lock, the door opening, and feet quietly treading up the steps towards their flat. His fingers twisted the fine adjustment knob on the microscope and his other hand minutely adjusted the slide position. He hesitated before peering into the ocular lens, waiting for John to arrive at the top of the stairs. When John arrived, Sherlock could sense the tension in the room and glanced up at him. John was slowly toeing off his shoes by the door, his forehead creased as he looked down at them. When he glanced over at Sherlock, their eyes met. John let out a suppressed sigh and moved towards the bedroom. “Piss off, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked after him, blinking. His first instinct was to follow his partner into the bedroom, to attempt to… comfort. However, John’s words left him sitting exactly where he was without any intention to move at all, lest he irritate John further. After a few moments, he turned back to his microscope, his right hand picking up the pen on the notebook beside him and jotting down numbers as he looked into the ocular lens.

 

In the bedroom, John threw down his bag and tossed his phone onto the bed. He grabbed his pyjamas from the wardrobe and tossed them onto the bed before stripping his clothes and walking into the bathroom for a hot shower.

 

Upon hearing the shower turn on, Sherlock got up from his chair and went to the counter to fill and turn on the kettle. His fingers deftly sought out the box of chamomile tea and he quickly prepped a mug and set it next to the kettle, waiting for the water to boil. His fingers tapped silently across the countertop as Sherlock glanced towards the bathroom door, waiting for sound of the shower turning off. Once the water boiled, he filled the mug and set it down next to his place at the table, letting it seep. He sat and returned to his experiment, keeping a mental timer on the tea and an ear out for his partner.

 

John stood under the hot water with his eyes closed, the water enveloping his body and erasing all other thoughts and stimuli. A long exhale deflated his chest and some of the tension in his body eased. He didn’t make a move to wash himself at first, just let the water wash over him. Once he was able to stand the idea of facing the world again, he scrubbed his body and washed his hair. Once he turned off the shower, he stepped out before remembering that all the bath towels were currently in the laundry bin in desperate need of washing and he hadn’t placed out any replacements.He closed his eyes briefly, the tension returning to his shoulders, and walked back into the bedroom, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. He grabbed a spare shirt and haphazardly dried himself off. He shoved himself into his pyjamas and sat on the bed with his head in his hands. He knew he needed to go say hello to Sherlock and apologise, but he couldn’t find the willpower within himself to do it. All he wanted to do was to get something to eat and then go to bed without anything else going wrong, but of course, something would go wrong. Things had been going wrong all day. Why would the pattern stop itself at this point? It might as well commit and ruin his entire fucking day. He straightened his shoulders and went out into the kitchen to talk to his boyfriend. Upon entering the kitchen, he stopped when he saw the steaming mug of tea waiting at his usual place at the table and Sherlock sitting at his microscope, looking as if he hadn’t moved an inch since John came home. His shoulders fell and he sat silently in the kitchen chair and took the mug in his hands. John closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of the mug through his hands and took a sip. The quiet sweetness of the chamomile spread throughout his chest as he swallowed, and his breath shuddered as he exhaled. When his eyes opened, he found Sherlock looking at him quietly, his forehead drawn slightly. “I’m sorry.” John only managed to whisper the words, a tightness in his chest as he looked down at the mug in his hands, yet another sign of the many ways in which he did not deserve Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock shifted in his chair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

John shook his head but couldn’t stop himself. “It was just a shitty day. Everything that could go wrong did.I woke up late and didn’t have time to make my coffee this morning. I was late anyways so I could have taken the fucking extra time to get coffee, but I didn’t. And work was absolute hell.Today, every screaming toddler in London walked into my office. I was thrown up on twice, urinated on, and jabbed with a pen.The tube was fucking packed; the entirety of London decided to ride it home. And I missed the first two trains home, so I was standing on the train station for ages and my hip fucking hurts. And I even cracked my phone on the pavement outside. I’ve never cracked it in the four years I’ve owned it. Hell, I’ve never cracked a phone in my life, despite all the running and getting shot at we do. It was just a really... shitty day. But I shouldn’t have said that to you, earlier. You didn’t do anything.”

Sherlock gave a small nod. “Can I do anything?”

“No. No, you’ve done more than enough for me. This is perfect. Thank you.” John gave him a small smile.

Sherlock shifted to face him in his chair, eyeing him. “John, if you consider a cup of tea to be more than enough to help you, you are either extremely easily placated, which I know is not true at least in this case as you are clearly still very tense, or you have had extremely inconsiderate and uncaring partners in the past, which I believe is more accurate and I would like to amend with our relationship. So, again, can I do anything for you? Keep in mind that I do not ask this question often, so you should take full advantage it right now.”

John sank back in his chair, his voice getting caught in his throat. “I… I don’t know what you want me to say. What am I supposed to ask for?”

“Anything to make your life better, John. It’s not physics.” Sherlock waved a hand at him.

John closed his eyes. “That’s not a question people normally ask each other, forgive me for not quite knowing what to say.”

“And there is the proof of my previous hypothesis. John, this question is not as unusual as you think it is. You have just been with people who didn’t attend to your needs well. What can I do?”

“I don’t know, Sherlock. I’m just fucking tired, okay? I’ve had a long fucking day and I just want to go to bed. That’s what I want. I want to go to bed and not wake up for a very long time.” John snapped at him, his eyes sharp. “And leave my fucking exes out of this, okay? They were perfectly normal. I have not been abused or neglected or anything that you seem to think because of the way we interact. You are not nurturing or caring, I do all the housework and the cooking and the cleaning and the caring, remember this! A cup of tea from you is a miracle because you seem incapable of doing anything in this kitchen besides creating biohazards that I end up cleaning up!” John stood and shoved the mug back towards Sherlock. “All I wanted was to come out here and apologise, get something to eat, and go to bed, but now I’ve lost my appetite. Goodnight.” He turned on his heel and slammed the bedroom door.

Sherlock’s eyes were wide as he watched John leave. He glanced down at the mug of tea that had been rejected and lifted it for a sip. After determining there had been nothing wrong with his offering, he sat for a moment, contemplating his next strategy. He pulled out his phone and made a quick call before standing and moving to the door of the bedroom. His feet shuffled as he shifted his weight before hesitantly knocking. “John?”

“Fuck off.”

Sherlock paused and then opened the door, stepping into the dim room. “John?” He could see John was curled up on his side of the bed with his arms wrapped around the pillow and he didn’t move or respond. Sherlock took a few more steps into the room and sat down on his own side of the bed. “John… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have implied that you were conditioned in your previous relationships to want less than what you deserve. That was unkind of me. It is true; however, it was rude of me to point it out. I hope you will forgive me. I am not… adept at being a good partner. It is not intuitive to me as it is to you. I have difficulty observing what you need and providing it. And I know I am severely lacking. It’s a miracle to me that you are with me at all… If I make you unhappy, however, I understand. As I said before, I will do anything that you want, anything that would improve your life. It would destroy me to leave you, but if it would improve your life to have someone more relational and domestically capable, I understand.” His voice cracked and he closed his eyes tightly, feeling his chest constricting and cracking with the ache of his words. “I understand.”

 “Jesus.” John’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. “No. No, no, no, no, Sherlock, that is not what I want. That’s not what I want at all. Don’t ever say that again. Fuck, no.”

Sherlock buried his face against John’s shoulder and threw his arms around him, his fingers clenching tightly in the fabric of John’s shirt. “I would do anything to ensure your happiness, John. I don’t want you to doubt that or think that I’m not being serious.”

“Shhh, I know. I know.” John ran a hand through Sherlock’s hair. “I know. I said some pretty dick things too. That cup of tea was honestly so lovely and unexpected. I shouldn’t have said any of the other things. I’m just fucking up everything today. You are a good partner. You knew that a cup of tea would help me. I just ruined it. But that was absolutely a correct impulse and I appreciate it more than I can express.” John moved so he was sitting against the headboard with Sherlock resting against his chest. John continued running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m really so sorry, my love. Please forgive me for being such a monster to you and disrupting your evening.”

Sherlock reached his head up and laid a soft kiss against John’s jaw. “I forgive you. Please forgive me too.”

“Of course.” John nodded before breathing deeply again, his arms settling around Sherlock. “Of course.” They lay there, wrapped in each other, their heartbeats and breathing synchronising.

About twenty minutes later, John was dozing off when Sherlock’s phone buzzed with a text. He fished it out and slipped out of John’s hold. He pressed a kiss to John’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

John roused himself and blinked sleepily after him. “Where are you going?”

Sherlock waved a hand at him before wrapping a dressing gown around his form and leaving. John heard muffled voices and then a minute later he was back with a brown carryout bag. “I had food delivered.” Sherlock gave him a small smile. “Italian comfort food. Did I choose correctly?”

John looked at him in surprise before moving to the edge of the bed and pulling him down for a kiss. “And the BAFTA for Best Boyfriend in the world goes to Sherlock Holmes. You are such a marvel.”

A faint pink formed on Sherlock’s cheeks as he pulled back, pressed a kiss to John’s forehead and shoved the carryout bag into his hands. “Please eat so you don’t end up devouring me in my sleep. Don’t think I couldn’t hear your stomach rumbling.”

John flushed. “Thank you. I really am sorry for earlier. You are very caring. I’m just an idiot sometimes.”

As John took the carryout out of the bag and laid it on the bed, Sherlock lay down in the empty space near him and closed his eyes. “You’re not an idiot.” He glanced at his partner nearly inhaling his food. “But you will choke if you continue to eat that quickly. There is no prize for finishing quickly, John, take your time.”

John slowed. “Sorry.”

“And I’ll have your phone replaced tomorrow. You needed an upgrade anyways.” Sherlock spoke quietly, gaging John’s reaction.

John paused. “You don’t have to. It’s fine. I don’t know if I want you to do that.”

Sherlock reached out a hand and placed the tips of his fingers against John’s wrist. “Allow me to help in this way, John.”

After a long moment of contemplation, John gave a short nod of consent. “Alright. Thank you.” At a considerably healthier pace, he finished his dinner, occasionally feeding Sherlock a bite if he deemed it too delicious to not share. Once he finished, he went into the kitchen to dispose of the trash and to prep for the next day while Sherlock used the bathroom. They switched and John prepared for bed while Sherlock cleaned up his experiment. When they finally met back in their bed, they settled under the covers, John moving to fit against Sherlock’s side and Sherlock sliding his arms around John. Gentle kisses brushed through John’s hair as he closed his eyes, content and thankful to be ending the day in the best possible way.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, critiques, and questions, are always welcome. Thank you for reading!


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